What Da Funk?
by Story Please
Summary: It's the official Hogsmeade afterparty for Hogwarts Alumni after the big send-off at Platform 9 3/4. Hermione is in a wistful mood, and it's obvious that she'd rather be anywhere else, but she understands the importance of respecting one's RSVP more than most. Will angst prevail over propriety? Pairings: RW/PP, HG/SS, just so you're not surprised.


Author's Note: Written for QLFC Round 10

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Captain

Captain's Prompt Song: 2010s: Uptown Funk — Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars

Word Count: 2946

Additional Author's Note: For the purposes of this fic, the epilogue still happens in September of 2017, but it's not quite exactly what you might expect. Somewhat AU. Discounts the events of Cursed Child.

* * *

 **What Da Funk?**

Hermione stirred her non-alcoholic drink in a decidedly aggressive manner, setting it down slowly onto the bar napkin that had come with it. She was careful not to spill any of the richly coloured amber liquid. After all, the men behind the bar worked hard on their feet all night long, and Hermione wasn't about to make things harder for them. She longed for the comforting silence of her office, but she'd accepted the party invitation. Hermione was many things, but she was not one to cancel after sending an RSVP.

It was odd being back in the Shrieking Shack after so many years, but the place was practically unrecognizable from the dilapidated structure it once had been. All of the rooms on the lower floor had been gutted, making room for a large bar area, lounge, and dance floor. At least thirty people were dancing enthusiastically on tiles that were charmed to change colour when pressure was applied to their surfaces. As she looked around at the swanky decor, Hermione grew more and more certain that the only remaining original part of the Shack was its name.

Considering all that she'd experienced in the Shack during her formative years, it was quite unsurprising that Hermione was happy about that particular fact.

The club had been Dean Thomas' idea. After the war, Muggleborn influences had grown stronger as many tried to distance themselves from the pure blooded traditions that often went hand-in-hand with anti-Muggleborn sentiments. Many pure blooded family lines had nearly been obliterated by the time the second war finally ended, and Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Voldemort had planned it that way. By siphoning up the resources and power of the elite families in British Wizarding society, Voldemort had single-handedly destabilized their hold on society in order to place himself at the top of the heap. Unfortunately for him, the plan had not worked out in the end.

Hermione knew that she should count her blessings. Even though she was only one year shy of forty ( _chronologically_ , she reminded herself— she did not wish to think about how many years she'd used up with the Time Turner) she didn't have any of the aches and pains that her Muggle friends complained regularly about. They were always asking her for her secret to "eternal youth," but Hermione knew that she couldn't tell them the truth. The Statute of Secrecy was still in effect, though the average Muggle was far less surprised or interested in feats of magic than ever before. Most thought it was special effects from a movie being filmed, or some sort of new technology. Harry had been teaching his Aurors to use "practical explanations" in lieu of _Obliviation_ , especially since tests had shown that regular usage of the spell was known to cause long-term memory loss in humans.

"So!" Ginny slurred, raising a glass of firewhisky in Hermione's direction, "There y'are!"

Hermione shrunk in on herself for a moment— she was not used to the attention, especially when it was directed at her, specifically. Then, she put on her best smile and shakily raised her drink and let out a nervous laugh. "Yep. Here I am! It'll be weird without Rose and Albus, won't it?"

"Yer so lucky. Only havin' two," Ginny hiccuped, raising her glass. "Two more years an' we won' hafta draw lots for babysittin' duty!"

"Oh, is that why I haven't seen Harry, then?" Hermione asked nervously. She'd have preferred to be able to see him, especially since he was adept at running interference for her if things got... _awkward_.

"OI! GIN!" A slurred, familiar voice ripped through the conversation in the full room. Heads turned, including Ginny, who smiled and waved.

"Speaking of awkward…" Hermione muttered to herself.

"HULLO ROOOOOOOONNNN!" Ginny called back, waving her drink at him, and Hermione realized that Harry hadn't been joking when he'd said that his wife was the ultimate lightweight.

She took one look the bright gin blossoms blooming upon Ron's cheeks as he sloshed through the crowd with a wine bottle in hand, and escaped up the stairs.

* * *

She hadn't seen anything marking the upstairs area as off-limits, but it was clear from the darkened room that it was meant to be used for group events or for overspill dining if the dining area near the front got full. Hermione kept mostly to the balcony area, which was fairly well-lit, since the colourful dance floor lights that extended from the ceiling were exceedingly bright. Hermione stared at them for a moment, trying to figure out if they used a runic coil or solar-fed LED's and then turned away, blinking as the afterimage of the lights swam across her eyes.

"Well, that was rather stupid of you, Hermione," she mumbled, leaning with her back against the railing. "Well, it wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last."

She thought back to earlier that day. At least Rose's sendoff at Platform 9 ¾ hadn't been too bad. She'd bickered with her ex-husband about his driving, but he'd actually been fairly civil, all things considered. Hugo had already arranged to sleep over at the Burrow in order to take some of the sting out of not being able to get on the Hogwarts Express— Hermione knew how much he was missing his sister even if he refused to admit it. She suspected that the fact that they'd always had each other was largely the reason behind them taking to the dual custody agreement so well. It was true that Rose's last year in Muggle school had been fraught with phone calls from the Head's office and Hermione could only sigh deeply as she remembered the array of black eyes and bruises (both given and received) in which her daughter had been personally involved. Rose was sensitive and smart, but she had a temper that rivaled Ron's.

A new song with a catchy beat came on, and Hermione couldn't help but tap her foot to the song. _Uptown Funk_ had been a breakout hit in the Muggle world when it was released in 2015, but the Wizarding World had been a bit slow on the uptake. Earlier that year, Celestina Warbeck had partnered up with an American Wizarding musician named Ruby Roderick and recorded a cover of the song with altered lyrics, which had become very popular in its own right. Hermione could remember dancing around in the kitchen with her children that summer as they set the table while the song played on the wireless.

Ron had missed a number of these musical breakfasts, but his distance only encouraged her to overcompensate with the children. Before their divorce, Ron would either be away at work, sleeping in, or off on a product fact-finding "mission" for his brother. He'd been distant, then, but she'd not realized just how far they'd drifted from one another. That was probably around the time he'd begun shacking up with Parvati, who'd become quite the seer and information broker in the decade following the war. Hermione had been unable to walk by her shop in Four-Quarter Alley for over a year after that. The thought of possibly hearing them... _together_...still made the bile rise in her throat.

"It's not your fault, you know. She foretold this, Mione," he'd said later, when it had all come out.

A sense of sadness bubbled up in her chest. Without Rose, it would be harder for her to keep her mind off the silence in the house. Hugo was a quiet boy and Rose's liveliness brought him out of his shell. Losing Ron hadn't hit her as hard, because he'd always been gone, and then when he'd stomped all over her heart and made her feel worthless, she was almost glad to be rid of him. But without Rose...

Saturdays just wouldn't be the same anymore.

She raised her head, looking over the balcony from the shadows, and saw Ron and Ginny singing along and dancing in an exaggerated manner to the lyrics— their confidence was brimming over just as much as their respective cups. Hermione couldn't help but think of Rose, and how she'd never keep herself hidden in the shadows. She'd be right out on the dance floor with her father and her aunt.

"I'm too hot!" Ron sang.

"Hot damn!" Ginny belted out.

"Cast an _Aguamenti_ I'm on fire, man, I'm too hot!"

"Hot damn!" More people were joining in as Ron sang.

"Make a dragon wanna retire, man! I'm too hot!"

"Hot damn!" Hermione smiled as she mouthed the words, remembering Rose holding a broom handle up to her lips like a microphone and belting out the lyrics at full volume.

"Say my name you know who I am. I'm too hot!"

"Hot damn!"

"Am I bad 'bout that money, break it down!" Ron spun around and everyone clapped along to the beat as he turned and tapped lightly on his toes. This was the fun-loving man she'd married— the one that had largely disappeared after Fred had died. The one she'd hoped to save by marrying him.

Parvati appeared on the dance floor behind Ron and he took her into his arms, spinning her around. Her long, black braid whipped around and her silky fuchsia dress glittered elegantly in the artificial light. Hermione hugged herself as though experiencing a chill and backed into the shadows once more.

The pressure of a hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see a familiar face looming over her.

"You're brooding again," he said silkily.

"I know. I can't help it," Hermione sighed, allowing him to take her hands in his.

"Far be it from me to stop you, Hermione, but I do so hate to see you suffer." He rubbed her fingers and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"I should have told you about tonight, but I thought you wouldn't want to come," Hermione replied, giving him a sad smile. "You, more than anyone have ample reasons to avoid this place."

"To be honest, I was mercifully delirious for most of it." He waved away her concern as though it was massively overblown.

"You nearly died!" Hermione replied, her voice growing shrill. "You know what I think about your nonchalance about your mortality, Severus."

"It is true, though. I am a mere mortal who is eternally grateful to one Hermione Granger for coming back for my ugly arse before it was _actually_ too late. I think we can both agree that it is a good thing that Potter never expressed an interest in medicine. I am not immortal nor am I a vampire, despite reports by annoying unregistered animaguses in disreputable rags they insist on calling a newspaper that attempt to argue to the contrary." He smirked as Hermione struck out her tongue at him.

"You know I cancelled my subscription to the Prophet after that bug-eyed parasite did an entire series about how I was a _fallen woman_ who was stringing my best friends along with my wily womanly ways," Hermione replied, "however, if she insists on causing you trouble, I may have a jar back at home with Skeeter's name still on it."

"Oh? Why, I am forever in your debt, my valiant white knight," Severus said, batting his eyes, his voice full of amusement.

Hermione gave him a playful shove, and then turned back to the balcony, her eyes growing teary.

"I'm sorry, I'm being silly," Hermione sniffled. "I know it's bad form to talk to one's current fiance about one's ex-husband, but I can't help it. If only I had done a million things differently, been less obsessive about my career, spent more time at home... _pleased_ him enough to keep his eye from wandering. Dropping Rose off today just reminded me of my failure to keep my family together, and as you know, I hate failing."

"Indeed. If I remember correctly, you seemed to face certain death with more aplomb than the thought of failure. This is precisely why I always graded your work at a higher standard than the others— I knew that you would never achieve greatness unless you were given the opportunity to push yourself," Severus said, nodding thoughtfully. "However, I think you are being far too hard on yourself this time. Why do you say that you have failed?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, then stared down at Ron and Parvati, who were still dancing as Ginny raised her glass and toasted to all manner of silly things. "I was always taught that marriage is forever. That goes doubly if there are children involved. They need both of their parents. Plenty of studies—"

"I was unaware that Hugo and Rose were unable to see both of their parents when they needed them. Is your floo malfunctioning, perhaps?" Severus arched an eyebrow and looked down at her with an odd glint in his eye.

Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Severus."

"I am merely asking if your children are being deprived a meaningful, loving relationship with either or both of their parents."

"Well...no...but—"

"And what about Ron? Does he look unhappy?" Severus gestured at Ron's smiling face as Parvati kissed him on the end of his nose.

Hermione looked at him with difficulty and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. "No. He's happier now than I've seen him in ages."

"Then what is it, Hermione?" Severus asked, his voice growing softer until it was nearly a whisper. "Are _you_ unhappy? With _me_ , perhaps?"

Hermione shook her head violently and sprang into his arms, knocking him back with the force of her embrace. "Never!" she declared.

She looked up at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes and as she blinked them away, she could tell that he was smiling at her in that secret, open way he reserved only for her.

"When Lily cut me out of her life, I was certain that I'd lost my only chance at happiness and that my life was over," Severus said, "and yet, here _you_ are. If I had not failed back then, I would not have the deeply profound love I share with you."

Hermione felt her blush spread down to her toes. "It's hard to argue with you when you're being unbearably, infuriatingly, _ugh_ , I hate to say it, but— _mushy_!" She made a sour face as though saying the word made her physically ill.

"You know that I would only say such _mushy_ things if I believed them to be true, Hermione," he replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek and wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"You can't fool me," Hermione hiccuped. "You're just using your sneaky Slytherin ways on me to cheer me up."

"On the contrary," Severus said, his voice tinged with sadness, "I am merely offering my services as a living comfort object so that you can be sad for as long as you need to be."

"What if I'm sad _forever_ , mourning the life I lost?" Hermione asked.

"A good question, and one that I myself have considered as well. I have found that it is fine to reflect on the past for better or for worse," Severus said seriously, "but it is also important to look at the present and future as well. Life isn't just a series of perfect moments frozen in time. It's a messy, often chaotic mishmash of all sorts of things. It's easy to paint a rosy picture of the past when you're cherry-picking the best moments and holding them up against your current life. However, I am sure that when you think of it, you will remember that there are plenty of times when you and Ron fought terribly, or where your children were ill-tempered or bratty for no apparent reason."

Hermione nodded and blew her nose into the black silk handkerchief that Severus handed to her. "I know. I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. You're feeling perfectly reasonable feelings, all things considered," Severus scolded. "In fact, I believe I may have an idea that you will find most amenable."

"Oh? Do tell," Hermione said, fixing him with an endearing expression.

"I shall owl Minerva and ask her to escort Rose to our kitchen for breakfast next Saturday. I shall even endure that dreadful _Uptown Funk_ you are so fond of singing at top volume, as it is customary," Severus said, wincing slightly at the mention of the song in question.

"Only if you promise to sing along with us," Hermione replied with a tiny smirk.

"You _must_ be joking!"

Hermione shook her head, covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the giggles that had sprung up in the back of her throat.

Severus let out a huff of irritation. "The things I do for you, witch! Fine! I shall sing along, but there is no way in the seven hells that you are getting me to do that ridiculous dance!"

"Oh, Severus, you always know just what to say!" Hermione said, kissing him soundly.

"Well, I hope you're happy!" Severus muttered in mock indignation as soon as they came up for air, but Hermione could see how his eyes glittered with amusement.

"Oh, I am, Severus. I really, truly am." Hermione nuzzled against his robes and breathed in the spicy, earthy scent of him, her mind finally at ease. "Now, then, what do you say about going home?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Severus said with a grin.

He wrapped his cloak around her and they Apparated away together, their hearts beating with the thrill of happy memories to come.


End file.
